


Starfall

by Malkuthe



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dragons, Fallen Shepherd, Hatred, Illusions, M/M, Murder, Tainted!AU, Tainted!Mikleo, Tainted!Sorey, malevolence - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkuthe/pseuds/Malkuthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Woe betide those who in their lives</p>
  <p>Bear witness to a Fallen Shepherd</p>
  <p>For no Age of Chaos nor Lord of Calamity</p>
  <p>Can ever hope to hold a candle</p>
  <p>To the darkness that He brings.</p>
  <p>For 'tis true that the brighter the light that shines,</p>
  <p>The deeper the shadow that follows.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Heed these words, ye who dare read them.</p>
  <p>For the light of hope will blacken.</p>
  <p>And the eyes of the people will dull.</p>
  <p>And all the wond'rous joy of youth</p>
  <p>Will turn to bitter ash.</p>
  <p>And when the flick'ring stars</p>
  <p>Fall bleeding from the heavens,</p>
  <p>The children of sin and death and fire,</p>
  <p>Shall sing the song of His waking</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xagrok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xagrok/gifts).



_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The Shepherd’s lips parted, warm breath ghosting out from between them. A sound of pleasure, low and hushed, followed. It was so stark against the exuberance that usually came from him. Not that it was inappropriate to be elated when titillating ecstasy throbbed through his very being.

One of Sorey’s hands found its way between his legs, fingers raking through the soft, pale-white hair that fell in rivers around the head that was pleasantly nestled there. His other hand tightened around the armrest of his seat. His fingernails dug into the delicate stonework, but it didn’t hurt.

Waves of arousal washed over Sorey as he felt the tension build in his groin. His abdomen tightened. His manhood swelled. Though he wanted nothing more than to prolong the pleasure, he didn’t have the willpower to stop the orgasm before it came spilling out of him.

Maybe in the past, he would have panted from the exertion, spent after a single climax, but instead Sorey languidly swirled his index finger in the soft strands of Mikleo’s hair. Two lavender eyes, glowing softly in the dim light of the chamber, turned up to look him in the face. A small pleased smile tugged at the corners of Sorey’s lips.

Sorey’s finger twirled one last time in Mikleo’s hair. The lock settled back down perfectly. His finger made its way down the side of the Seraph’s face. Mikleo’s shiver and the soft whimper of almost pained arousal that followed made Sorey’s cock, which Mikleo still hadn’t let go, twitch.

Sorey’s fingers wandered further down, stroking the Seraph’s cheek before moving to cup Mikleo’s chin. He tilted his old friend’s face up, unable to resist the sudden desire to see his still-hard cock wrapped in the Seraph’s velvety lips.

Sorey traced his fingers over the bumps of emerging scales that lined Mikleo’s chin and appeared in sporadic patches down along the length of his neck. The sensation of them under his fingertips amused him. “Up,” he said, in a commanding, demanding tone that the old him would have never dreamed to use on Mikleo.

Wordlessly, Mikleo followed the order and rose. Sorey eyed the naked form of his companion and licked his lips with every inch of Mikleo’s flesh that was revealed. The pale supple skin was _enhanced_ here and there by patches of growing scales. When finally they faced each other eye to eye in what felt like an eternity, Sorey pulled his old friend close and pressed their lips together.

The sounds of pleasure that followed their kiss reverberated in unison through the silent chamber. Sorey’s tongue traced the underside of Mikleo’s sharpening teeth, and he could taste the coppery tang of blood on them and on Mikleo’s tongue. It took a moment to accustom himself to the taste, but when he did, it was _heavenly_.

Sorey savored the flavour and closed his eyes, humming with satisfaction. He wrapped one arm around Mikleo’s shoulders, while the other cradled Mikleo’s lower back. He dug his fingers into the supple muscle of Mikleo’s ass and groaned into Mikleo’s mouth at the sound of the soft whimper that followed.

Sorey broke the kiss and watched, riveted, as Mikleo’s head fell back without support. The Seraph’s chest rose and fell heavily and quickly. Mikleo’s panting filled the silence, and Sorey had to bite his lip, fighting the temptation for but a brief while. Eventually, the submissively bared neck became too enticing to refuse.

Sorey leaned forward and bit down on the tender flesh of Mikleo’s neck. Stubs of growing dragon scales rasped against his tongue, but he delighted in the texture. Mikleo moaned. Sorey bit harder—hard enough to draw blood—and growled possessively at the instinctive parting of Mikleo’s legs that came after.

\----------

_Heldalf sat back in his throne, relishing his victory once again. It had all been too easy to set a trap for the Shepherd boy and his friends. Resonance itself was such a fascinating thing, even more so the way that it was influenced by the mind. Heldalf watched as Sorey, Mikleo, and their friends twitched every now and again atop the stone tables that had served as their resting places for the past handful of decades._

_It was almost difficult to see the faces of the companions from the sheer thickness of the Malevolence wrapped around their heads. Symonne sat by Heldalf’s side, perched on one of the armrests of the throne. She waved her sceptre, working hard even after so many years, to increase the complexity of the illusions that held the Shepherd boy and his pesky meddlesome companions out of Heldalf’s hair as he worked toward his goal of a world free of agony and suffering._

_Heldalf inhaled the air, thick with Malevolence, as he shifted in his throne. He threw a sidelong glance at the Seraph perched upon his throne and bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Masterful work as always, Symonne,” he said, and then no more. There were days when he wondered how she had managed to trap the Shepherd and his friends so effectively. He knew that she must have somehow showed them a version of reality far easier to embrace than the truth._

_“It was simple, really,” said Symonne, with a small smirk. “I made them think that they won.” The two turned to look at the Shepherd and his Seraphim, the only individuals in the world that could have even begun to hope to stand against them. They watched for a while, until Heldalf felt something shift in the chamber._

_The Lord of Calamity leaned forward in his throne and sniffed the air. The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk. Something auspicious had just occurred. The possibility of an invaluable ally had just become all but assured. Symonne’s expression followed Heldalf’s. They had both felt the tiniest seed of Malevolence take root in the Shepherd and now they knew that it was only a matter of time before it grew and spread to the rest._

_\----------_

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sorey caught Mikleo’s hand in his own and brought its slender fingers to his lips. He’d been hearing the patter of droplets on the floor for a while. Now that he had tasted blood, he could no longer ignore it.

Sorey lightly nipped at the fingertips then swirled his tongue around them. “S-Sorey…” whined the Seraph as Sorey popped one finger into his mouth and gently suckled on it. “F—!” whatever Mikleo had been about to say was cut off by a strangled cry of pleasure. Sorey had slipped the fingers of his other hand into Mikleo.

“W-we might still be able to get away, Sorey…” Mikleo managed between heavy pants. The Seraph pitched forward, bracing himself against Sorey’s chest. Sorey felt the heat of Mikleo’s cheeks against his bare skin. “We can look for a way to get rid of the Malevolence inside you…” Mikleo said, only barely managing to finish before moaning as Sorey masterfully twirled his fingers inside the Seraph.

“That is so like you, Mikleo,” said Sorey. He licked Mikleo’s fingers and savored the blood that still clung to them. He leaned his head forward, holding Mikleo’s arm to his shoulder. “You’ve always been a fighter. For me, at least. You’ll fight until the bitter end,” Sorey drawled, trailing off as he licked the sensitive skin behind the lobe of Mikleo’s ear.

“But isn’t it better this way? Not for the humans, maybe,” said Sorey, “I don’t give a damn about them. But for us. For our dream… This way no one can stop us or tell us what to do. We can explore as many ruins as we want. We can piece together history without anyone to get in our way…”

“This—” Mikleo moaned. “This is—!” He moaned again. The sound was music to Sorey’s ears. The wanton noises were delicious and made _him_ shiver with delight. From the way that Mikleo involuntarily bucked against him, hard cock rubbing against his abdomen and smearing pre-cum all over his musculature, he could tell that Mikleo was beginning to have trouble resisting the bodily desires that were coursing through him.

“This isn’t you!” Mikleo managed through gritted teeth. “Wha—!” Sorey licked the skin behind Mikleo’s ear again, drawing a strangled noise from the Seraph. “What happened to the Sorey that wanted to help everyone?”

Sorey pulled back and smiled, baring his own sharpened teeth. “Killed,” he said, the word dripping with ice-cold venom. “He was killed when _they_ killed you.”

Mikleo panted. Sorey felt the arms wrapped around him tighten. Sharp stabs of pleasant pain shot through him as the growing talons on Mikleo’s fingers dug into his skin. Though they had never been physically intimate prior to this, Sorey’s fingers found Mikleo’s spot with ease. Mikleo keened with pleasure, pressing up even more against Sorey. “That was all an illusion!” said Mikleo, although the words sounded hollow now to Sorey. “You know this!”

“Maybe,” said the Fallen Shepherd. “But you and I both know that it is in the nature of humans to lash out against what they don’t understand.” Sorey let go of Mikleo’s hand and leaned forward again to nip at the lobe of Mikleo’s ear. “Give in, Mikleo,” Sorey drawled. “I don’t care about them anymore. I care about you.”

A shiver made its way through Mikleo’s body. Sorey hummed with delight. He whispered in Mikleo’s ear, his breath hot and heavy as it ghosted over the sensitive flesh. “You know as well as I do that there’s no way to stop this. We can’t purify them. We can’t purify you. There’s no use fighting. Just… _embrace_ this.”

Sorey looked down and saw Mikleo’s eyes looking up at him. He saw the warring emotions in them, but most importantly, he could see that his temptation was wearing down on what little resistance the Seraph had left. The sight filled Sorey with satisfaction. He felt Malevolence emanate from his naked form in waves.

The thick Malevolence washed over Mikleo and the nubs of growing scales burst out through the tender skin, the full-fledged ones shimmering ever so slightly in the dim light like tiny plates of ice. “You also know that you can’t make me leave you behind,” said Sorey. Mikleo’s eyes went blank for a moment, then the round pupils turned to reptilian slits. “You’re _mine._ ”

Mikleo groaned again, though this time it was from pain. His talons left bloody gouges along the flesh of Sorey’s back. Leathery wings erupted from the Seraph’s shoulder blades, the limbs that connected them to his body covered in shimmering pale blue scales. The thin membrane that stretched between the fingers of the wings were translucent and patterned with frosted spirals.

“Give in, Mikleo,” Sorey said, sweetly. He didn’t care about the Malevolence that hung about the two of them. He couldn’t have cared less if the world outside was in chaos or in peace. He cared only about Mikleo. “We can be together _for eternity_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, Tales of Zestiria fandom! I usually write for the PJO fandom. If you haven't caught on, I write a loooot of smut and angst. Kinda my specialty.
> 
> I hope you liked this short story. I know it's a bit of a tease, but I think that if it gets enough attention and if I get enough feedback on it, I can expand on it. I have a lot of plans for Sorey/Mikleo, so I hope that people will be interested enough in what I write to keep me going! <3\. Leave me a kudos if you liked this first chapter, and leave me a comment if you want to see a continuation of this short one-shot and I just might do it!


	2. The Fall

“Idiot!” Mikleo rasped. “Sorey, you’re an idiot!” It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fingers that were playing inside of him. At first they had been pleasant—despite burning with a bit of pain. Now, they felt hot inside of him, each touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his body. His cock throbbed needily between his legs.

Mikleo ignored his lust for the moment. He squeezed Sorey tighter. He hung on for dear life, ignoring the Malevolence that was making his stomach turn. “We can’t be together forever,” Mikleo said, panting. Who would have thought that speaking would be so strenuous?

Despite the darkness that was nagging at the edges of his consciousness, and the masterful way that Sorey was playing his body like an instrument, Mikleo felt that there was at least some lucidity to his thoughts.

In the silence that followed, Mikleo could do little but lick his lips. There was a salty-sweet taste  that he couldn’t quite place. As he looked at Sorey, the realization dawned on him, and red blossomed across his cheeks. He had had Sorey’s cock in his mouth. He had made Sorey come in his throat. He was afraid because he felt like it wasn’t really _him_ who did those things, but at the same time, a small part of him was silently celebrating in his mind.

Mikleo couldn’t avoid thinking about why he had done it. At first he couldn’t recall, then he wished that he had never remembered. Mikleo heaved. He _still_ heard the sound of ripping flesh and breaking bone when he had torn out Heldalf’s still-beating heart with his bare hands. Bile rose in the back of his throat. He _still_ felt the weak pulsing of the heart in his palm—the way that it squished so easily when he crushed it with his fingers.

Distracted by his thoughts, it took a moment for Mikleo to notice that Sorey had stopped playing with his hole. He almost begged for it to start again but managed to bite his tongue just in time. “What do you mean we can’t be together forever?” said Sorey, his voice low and dangerous.

Mikleo forced a laugh through gritted teeth. “Sometimes,” he said, groaning, “you make me wonder if you have rocks in that head of yours instead of brains.” Mikleo let himself fall back. Sorey’s free arm caught him. He looked Sorey in the eyes and saw a gleam of anger in them for but a heartbeat. “I’m on my way to becoming a dragon…”

Mikleo choked on the words. He barely managed to stifle a sob. Edna. Eizen. It had been one thing to think of the possibility, but another entirely to put his fears to words. “I—I might not even remember who you are…”

A thumb swiped across Mikleo’s cheek, wiping away tears that he hadn’t realized had fallen. “Mikleo is dumb~!” said Sorey, in a sing-song voice that sounded more unsettling than comforting considering the Malevolence that radiated from him. “My Mikleo is a big, _big_ dummy.”

“I-I’m not!” Mikleo protested. The innocence—the purity—that Sorey was showing was disturbing, juxtaposed with the Malevolence that surrounded them. Still, Mikleo couldn’t help but see some of the old Sorey shining through. He could only respond as he would have when they were just starting out on their journey together. “I’m not being dumb, Sorey!” he said.

A wanton moan escaped Mikleo’s lips when Sorey’s fingers inside of him started moving again. He couldn’t look Sorey in the eye anymore. The pleasure was too much. It was too difficult to keep looking up like that. Instead he braced himself against Sorey’s shoulder and murmured into the crook of the Shepherd’s neck. “I’m already halfway to becoming a dragon… I don’t think we _can_ be together forever.”

Mikleo felt the air around him drop in temperature. The Malevolence flowing out of Sorey seemed to intensify hundredfold. With what little strength he had remaining in his arms, he pushed himself off of Sorey. He supported his weight by placing his hands on Sorey’s shoulders.

Mikleo didn’t have to keep that position for very long. “Don’t you dare say that again!” said Sorey. Mikleo’s eyes widened when he felt Sorey’s fingers digging into the sides of his throat. Sorey’s eyes were flashing dangerously. Purple veins criss-crossed Sorey’s sclera. “You won’t turn into a dragon!” said Sorey.

“You won’t forget me.” Sorey’s fingers tightened around Mikleo’s throat. He clawed at them. He couldn’t breathe. A flash of fear crossed over Sorey’s eyes. Mikleo dropped into Sorey’s lap, massaging his sore throat.

“I _won’t_ let that happen!” Sorey screamed with enough force that Mikleo had to throw his arms around him to stay in his lap. Mikleo shivered as he felt a pulse of energy travel through him. He cracked open an eye and saw the clouds of Malevolence around them had dissipated. “I _won’t_ let that happen.”

“You _can’t_ help it!” said Mikleo. His limbs were weak but he still somehow managed to muster the strength to pound a fist on Sorey’s sternum. He was so afraid, and seeing Sorey like this only made things worse. “I can already feel the change… I have wings, Sorey. _Wings!_ ” Mikleo took a deep breath, choking halfway through when Sorey’s fingers found his prostate. “Nnh!”

Why Sorey insisted on pleasuring him, Mikleo couldn’t understand, but he could feel the haze starting to descend on his mind again. He felt like he was thinking through cotton. He panted, no longer able to ignore the pleasure that was making his legs tremble.

Mikleo draped himself over Sorey’s chest. He wondered how long he could resist the Malevolence. Deep down, he knew that the answer was not much longer.

It was something he’d fantasized about for so long, but he’d always held himself back. It wasn’t even anything dirty. It was one of the more innocent daydreams that Mikleo had had about Sorey. He would have stopped himself this time, too, but the desire to do it was too great. He leaned forward and licked the divot of Sorey’s collarbone.

Mikleo hadn’t even noticed that Sorey had been sweating. The salty taste on his tongue was so good. He couldn’t resist giving the area another lick. Sorey was so warm. Another lick wouldn’t hurt. Then another. And another. If it weren’t for the small part of Mikleo’s mind still fighting, he wouldn’t have stopped. He pulled himself away from Sorey, eyes hooded. “I look at you,” said Mikleo, “and some part of me is already thinking of how good you would taste going down my throat…”

Mikleo felt his teeth grow longer and more vicious. His head swam and his stomach turned. The Malevolence inside of him slammed against the futile resistance he had put up against it. His vision sharpened and honed in on the glistening saliva he’d left on Sorey’s skin. He felt scales burrowing out from under the skin that surrounded the sockets of his eyes.

Another pulse of Malevolence coursed through Mikleo’s body. Instantly, all other thoughts were wiped away. “I’m hungry, Sorey,” Mikleo drawled. His mind felt cloudy and dull. Not that it mattered. He knew that there was only one thing on it anyway. Hunger. His tongue snaked out from between his lips and he wasn’t even surprised to find that it was forked.

“And I… I want to _eat_ you.” Mikleo’s darted forward, tongue wrapping around Sorey’s neck. He tickled the line of Sorey’s jaw with the two tines of his tongue, tasting the flesh and the thin veneer of sweat over it. Mikleo’s tongue slithered up behind Sorey’s ear. “You’re… _delicioussss…_ ”

Mikleo blinked. He hadn’t even noticed Sorey’s hand moving. He hadn’t recognized the gentle fingers grazing across the skin and scales of his cheek before tapping it. He blinked again, the haze that had descended upon his mind somehow lifting for the moment.

“Eat me?” said Sorey, head tilted to the side. For a moment, Sorey looked so innocent and pure that Mikleo would have believed he was in yet another illusion. “But then how would we be together forever?”

Mikleo’s heart fluttered in his chest and then sank into his stomach. How far gone had he been? He vaguely remembered what had happened. He could still taste Sorey on his tongue. He could still feel the hunger dwelling in the back of his mind. “Lords…” said Mikleo, choking back a sob. “I’m so sorry!”

“You don’t have to be,” said Sorey, clicking his tongue. Mikleo looked up at Sorey. The face was the same. This was the friend he has known since he could remember.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” said Sorey. The face might have been unchanged, but the way Sorey spoke certainly had. The silky, oily tone that Sorey used sent shivers up Mikleo’s spine. Whether it was fear or pleasure, Mikleo couldn’t tell anymore.

“Didn’t you say you would do anything for me?” said Sorey. Mikleo trembled as Sorey traced a finger down the side of his face. He desired more than just that teasing touch, and the fact that Sorey’s fingers slipped out of him didn’t help. He felt empty without Sorey’s fingers inside of him. “I want you to not turn into a dragon,” said Sorey. “That’s all I want you to do for me.”

“Y-you’re an idiot, Sorey,” said Mikleo, whimpering with arousal and need. When had Sorey become such a masterful tease? Was this what the Malevolence did? His thoughts fragmented as he felt Sorey’s fingers dance feather-light down his sides.

When Sorey’s hands cupped Mikleo’s asscheeks, a high-pitched squeak escaped Mikleo. When Sorey started kneading his butt, biting his tongue was all he could do to not beg for those fingers—or something else, something bigger—to be shoved inside of him. He didn’t want to seem _too_ needy. That, and some small part of him still wanted to convince Sorey that the Malevolence wasn’t the answer.

Although, with every surge of pleasure that Mikleo felt, every pang of hunger in the back of his mind, Mikleo found that he was doubting that more and more.

“I—I can’t promise anything,” said Mikleo. One of Sorey’s fingers circled his entrance, eliciting a breathless gasp. “Mmmh!” Mikleo whimpered when the finger popped inside. It wasn’t enough, but it scratched the itch a little bit. It let him think just that tiny  bit clearer. “B-but I’ll try. For you…” Mikleo’s resistance crumbled. He bucked his hips backward, forcing Sorey’s finger deep inside of him.

“F-fuck!” Mikleo moaned. A second finger entered him, stretching him out. He’d only ever gotten this far on his own before. The memory of those nights he struggled, fingers stuck inside of him, trying his best not to moan Sorey’s name out loud, brought heat to his cheeks. “S-Sorey… Please…”

What exactly Mikleo was begging for, even _he_ didn’t know. He glanced up, saw the hungry look on Sorey’s face, and immediately figured it out. He felt a stirring in his groin as his mind put the words together. “Just in case I do become a dragon…” Mikleo couldn’t help but feel as though even entertaining the thought was wrong now that Sorey had explicitly told him _not_ to turn into a dragon.

“In case I do forget who you are…” Mikleo panted. His mouth opened in a wordless, soundless moan of pleasure and pain as a third finger entered him and stretched him beyond what he was used to. It was far more than what he’d ever attempted to do on his own.

“I want you inside me,” Mikleo moaned. “I know it’s selfish but let me just have this… please…” Mikleo whimpered and pressed his lips to the taut muscle of Sorey’s shoulders. “Let me have you… Please… If we’re separated, I at least want to know that we did this just once.”

Mikleo shivered as Sorey’s warm breath ghosted by his cheek, as Sorey nipped at the lobe of his ear. He cried out, brought instantly to the edge by the words that Sorey drawled into his ear. They were like sweet ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. “It’s always been there for you to have… Now you just have to take it,” said Sorey.

Mikleo whined when he felt Sorey’s fingers leave him again. Now that he was used to having three inside of him, their absence made him feel empty. Hollow. The hunger gnawed at him again, but the feeling of the blunt head of Sorey’s cock against his hole drove that hunger whimpering into a corner of his mind.

When he looked into Sorey’s eyes, Mikleo saw madness dwelling behind them. At the same time, he saw the unconditional love that had always been there. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening. After years of pining. After years of holding back because he felt it was improper. Now, one of Mikleo’s deepest, guiltiest fantasies drove him to find some privacy whenever everyone else had gone to sleep.

More than fulfilling some fantasy, Mikleo knew that if he went through with this, there was no turning back. He was accepting the darkness into himself. Maybe in another life he would have been disgusted by the thought, but now he felt nothing but excitement. He reached behind him and wrapped his fingers around Sorey’s cock.

A moan slipped past Mikleo’s lips when Sorey bit him. He had given Sorey’s cock a few tugs, but his quivering legs betrayed the nervousness that his remaining ‘purity’ felt. “Tease,” Sorey drawled in his ear. “I know you want it… You already swallowed it before…” Mikleo’s cheeks reddened. The tips of his ears were so hot he was sure they were on fire. “All you need to do now is sit down.”

Mikleo hesitated. He couldn’t help it. In the space of a few moments he’d gone from excited to terrified. “What’s wrong, Mikleo?” said Sorey. His voice was honey-sweet even as it dripped with lecherous intent. “We’ve wanted this for so long, right? Are you afraid that if you give in, the Malevolence will overcome you?”

Mikleo cried out. He felt blood trickle down the bare skin of his shoulder. Sorey’s teeth-marks traced out a semicircle that stood out bright red against his pale skin. “I told you, Mikleo,” said Sorey. “We’ll be together forever. I won’t let you forget me. I promise…”

The gentle tone became harder. “Now sit down.”

Mikleo’s legs shook, but Sorey was right. They had both been wanting this for so long. They had both been denying it. Now that there was the possibility they could be separated for eternity, Mikleo realized that there was no point still denying it. He took a deep breath and pushed his ass back, wincing as Sorey’s cock slowly forced him open.

Sorey’s fingers had prepared him, but not nearly enough for Sorey’s size. He had had no idea. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he had seen Sorey naked. It didn’t help that the only lubrication that they had was what little water Mikleo could pull out of thin air.

As painful as the experience was, as much as Mikleo felt that he was being ripped in two, he also felt a profound joy. He felt like, despite the Malevolence around them, he was right where he belonged. He didn’t care that his talons were growing longer and more vicious. He didn’t care that his skin was turning into scales. All he cared about was Sorey—Sorey and being _with_ Sorey.

By the time that Mikleo felt Sorey’s hips against his ass, he was panting from the exertion. He felt full. _So_ full. His ass hurt but it also felt _so_ good. Every pulse of blood through Sorey’s cock inside of him sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. He was so sensitive. His own cock was rigid but neglected, even as it dribbled pre-come onto Sorey’s abdomen.

Mikleo looked into Sorey’s eyes. Emerald green like always, but flecked with purple now. Why had he ever thought that there was something wrong? Everything was right as long as they were together. Sorey smirked. Mikleo moaned from the mere sight. Sorey reached down, swirled a finger in Mikleo’s puddle of pre-come, and brought it to his lips.

Mikleo watched, rapt, as Sorey suckled on that finger. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes were captured by the way that Sorey’s tongue playfully swiped across the tip and came away with a strand of pre-come that glistened in the dim light. For the first time, Mikleo noticed that he had grown a tail—no more than four inches long—and that it was wagging.

Sorey’s fingers dipped back down into the puddle, though this time, they came up to Mikleo’s lips. Before his mind could register what he was doing, Mikleo was lapping hungrily at the fingers. One of his sharpened teeth caught on Sorey’s skin and left a small shallow gash that was nonetheless enough to draw blood. The taste of Sorey’s blood on his tongue sent warmth tingling all throughout him, and the hunger that had been at the back of his consciousness came back roaring for attention.

Mikleo darted forward and sank his teeth into Sorey’s shoulder. It was all he could do to not gnaw off Sorey’s fingers. His vision swam as the dim light slowly became brighter and brighter. Colours he had never seen before began to dance in front of his eyes. Specks of darkness and motes of light flitted across Sorey’s skin, enchanting in their swirling motions.

Mikleo felt the nubs at his temples begin to grow. Bone broke through skin as the horns that had been barely noticeable before grew out. Mikleo’s head felt heavy, and the fact that he was biting Sorey was all that kept him from tipping over backwards from the weight of his new horns.

What started as a whimper turned into a deep throaty growl when Sorey pulled out of Mikleo and then slammed back in.

Mikleo’s eyes drifted up. Sorey’s exposed throat looked so delicious. Before he could stop himself, his tongue had already darted out and swiped across the soft skin. He opened his mouth, growling softly. His teeth sharpened and lengthened, his face elongating into a vicious maw. Mikleo reared back to strike, only to be interrupted by a sharp tutting sound from Sorey.

“Mikleo,” said Sorey. Mikleo blinked. Then blinked again. The savage haze in his mind dispersed and in its wake he felt equal parts embarrassed, annoyed, and ashamed. “Now, now,” said Sorey, “No eating me. Riding me, however, you’re welcome to do.”

The smile that curled the corners of Sorey’s lips touched his eyes, too, and Mikleo couldn’t help but wonder how. How could Sorey so quickly forgive, even as overcome with Malevolence as he was? Mikleo didn’t think he could forgive himself. It was twice now that he had nearly killed Sorey.

“ _Now_ ,” said Sorey, his voice vibrating with authority. Whatever pretense of dominance that the dragon inside of him had attempted to demonstrate earlier immediately evaporated in the wake of Sorey’s command. Even though he didn’t really need more prompting, Mikleo felt his body move of its own accord. He didn’t mind. Sorey’s cock sliding out of him as he pulled himself off of it sent shivers of rapturous pleasure through his body.

Truth be told, Mikleo was more afraid that he wouldn’t be able to ride Sorey for very long before his legs just turned to jelly.

Mikleo didn’t last very long. He tried his best, but before even a minute had passed, he found himself pressed up against Sorey’s chest, panting, moaning, and unable to stop the wanton sounds and half-draconic whimpers that forced their way past his lips. He was trembling from the sheer effort of trying to ride Sorey, but his body simply wouldn’t let him.

“That good, Mikleo?” Sorey drawled, tracing the line of Mikleo’s jaw that only made him whimper more. “Fine. Turn around.” Mikleo felt strong hands grab on to his legs. He shifted where he sat, only to groan again when the tiny motion pressed Sorey’s cock into his prostate.

Mikleo tried his best to comply with the command but ultimately collapsed onto Sorey. Though there was a strength building inside of him as his tail grew and his scales spread further across his skin, that same strength seemed to turn to mush with every word that Sorey spoke—and with every teasing touch that Sorey showered him with.

Mikleo squeaked, embarrassed, when Sorey’s hands slid down to his waist. He looked up into Sorey’s eyes and saw in them a glint of mischief. He whined when he felt Sorey slowly pull out of him, stopping when only the head was left inside.

Mikleo’s eyes flattered shut. He imagined what was going to happen next. He wasn’t apprehensive at all. No, not anymore. In fact, he was quite looking forward to it. He silently cursed his uncooperative body, but then the thought of Sorey slamming into him made his toes curl with pleasure. His cock twitched, dripping pre-come between the two of them. He felt as though Sorey could make him come with a single thrust.

When Sorey spun Mikleo around, his cock was still in Mikleo’s hole. Mikleo winced at the burning pain from the friction. Then, Sorey’s hands went to his hips and pulled him down. None of the pleasure he’d experienced so far could compare to this. His eyes widened. His jaw hung open for a moment, silently, before a low throaty growl spilled out as Sorey’s entire length slid into him.

Sorey was _big_. Or at least Mikleo thought so. It wasn’t like there was anyone else he could compare Sorey to. Needless to say, more so now than before, Sorey’s cock felt so _right_ inside of him. He shivered as he felt every pulse of blood through the engorged member. He wanted nothing more than for Sorey to _take_ him, despite the rising hunger in his core—the intensifying desire to dominate, to rut, and to fuck into the floor.

“Can’t have that now, Mikleo,” said Sorey, with an unnerving smile. Mikleo felt a moment of weightlessness before he found himself bent over the seat of the throne. Sorey’s hands were on his hips. Sorey himself was standing beside him, cock buried hilt-deep.

Instinctively, Mikleo reached up and grasped the armrests of the throne. He pushed himself up, but Sorey’s hand on his back forced him down again. His cheek pressed against the cold stone, he shivered, afraid and painfully aroused all at once. He felt Sorey shift inside of him, whimpering as he felt Sorey pull out. Then, he screamed when Sorey thrust in again.

Agony. Ecstasy. Mikleo didn’t really know the difference anymore. His mind was falling to pieces, and he couldn’t care less—all because it was Sorey that was doing this to him. Joy. Sorrow. Lust. Whatever it was, the only thing that Mikleo knew was that he needed more of it—more of Sorey.

As though an answer to his prayers, Mikleo felt the feather-light touches of Sorey’s fingers on his back, exploring the curves of his lean musculature. “I fantasized about this a lot, you know, Mikleo,” said Sorey. Mikleo sucked in a breath. Sorey’s thrusts were slow and gentle. Maddeningly so. Was it his fault for imagining more frenzied lovemaking for their first time?

“You know,” said Sorey, fingers tracing the delicate curve of Mikleo’s sides. “For the longest time I thought something was wrong with me. Even back in Elysia. I knew I looked at you differently than I looked at everyone else…” Mikleo squirmed and writhed under Sorey’s tender ministrations. Sorey’s words echoed his own insecurities and invariably brought tears to his own eyes, but more than that he wished for Sorey to _take_ him.

“I thought I was sick in the head because I wanted to see my best friend naked under me…” Mikleo shivered again. The darker tone of Sorey’s voice was just _so sexy_. The way that Sorey’s warm breath left phantom sensations over the skin of his back felt so good. The dragon growing inside of him raged against it, but all Mikleo wanted to do was bare his neck submissively to Sorey. So he did.

Mikleo trembled as Sorey’s tongue, hot and went, dragged across the skin of his neck. He winced when Sorey’s teeth clamped _hard_ around a patch of skin before pulling away. “That I was broken because I wanted to hear him moan like a cheap whore…” Mikleo made a sound—just the sound that Sorey wanted to hear—when Sorey punctuated his words with a particularly powerful thrust that pitched him forward against the cold stone.

“I wanted my Mikleo to scream my name so loud that he forgot his own…”

So addled by the lust that thrummed through his veins, Mikleo didn’t even notice the Malevolence that had coalesced around them. It dripped onto him from thick clouds, splashing against his skin but not rolling off. Instead, the darkness seeped into him and the hunger that had only just been gnawing at the edges of his consciousness came to the forefront.

The only difference was that the hunger had been changed. It wasn’t a hunger for flesh or blood. No, it was a deep desire to spend every moment with Sorey. To have more of _this_ with Sorey. In no time at all, Sorey had already seized control of the Malevolence and though he was not doing it consciously, Mikleo knew, Sorey was inadvertently changing him to better fit his desires.

Sorey pulled out, then slammed back in, derailing Mikleo’s train of thought. “Sorey!” he screamed, the name spilling from his lips faster than he could stop it. Wherever the train was now, Mikleo knew he couldn’t get it back. No other thoughts wanted to form. No other thoughts _could_ form.

Mikleo’s arousal had reached a fever pitch. “Nnnh!” he moaned, the sound rasping and rough as his physiology continued to change. “Please, faster…” he whimpered. His cheeks reddened. Why was he begging? A single thrust from Sorey later and he realized he didn’t actually care why.

“Fuck me harder!” Mikleo demanded as his inhibitions slowly melted away. He would have bucked against the hand that pressed his head against the cold stone of the throne had he been in the right state of mind, but right now he embraced it. He loved it when Sorey showed possessiveness over him.

The stone of the throne buckled as Mikleo’s hands turned to draconic claws. The small tail that had sprouted from the base of his spine grew to nearly four feet long. He wrapped it around Sorey’s waist, pulling in time with Sorey’s thrusts to make the fuck even harder than it already was.

Mikleo closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations. Then, he felt it. The Malevolence seeping into him from inside, from Sorey’s cock. His eyes shot open, reptilian slits glowing with dark power. The wings on Mikleo’s back flapped uselessly as he bucked and moaned for more. “I was a fool,” Sorey growled, bending over so that the words were loud against Mikleo’s ear, so that his hot quick breaths warmed Mikleo’s cheek.

Sorey nipped and bit at Mikleo. Every bit of exposed skin that was within reach was marked, invariably, with Sorey’s teeth. Even when the scales grew in over the flesh, Mikleo felt every mark. “I thought it was wrong to think of you that way, but now I see it clearly,” Sorey managed. “We were always meant to be this way. We were always one of mind and heart, but too afraid to come together in the flesh.”

Sorey pulled out. Then slammed back in. Out. In. Out. In. Mikleo moaned. All pretense of conscious thought drifted away like ashes in the wind as Sorey’s tempestuous fuck grew more and more intense. “Now we’ll be one of body, too.”

Mikleo felt Sorey’s teeth on his shoulder. He wanted to tell Sorey to stop, that there was no way teeth could break through his scales, but he was wrong. Oh he was _so_ wrong. In his mind, Mikleo heard Sorey’s voice growling, far more draconic and guttural than his own. “Remember, Mikleo,” said Sorey in his mind, “You’re _mine_.”

A blinding flash of pleasure surged through Mikleo as Sorey’s teeth broke through scales and spilled blood. Mikleo screamed, body shuddering from the pleasure. He felt Sorey’s cock swell inside of him, then pulse, then paint him white. Each spurt raised Mikleo’s arousal higher and higher until it reached a final mind-shattering crescendo.

Mikleo’s eyes rolled back in his head as his own cock began to spurt. Come splattered against the stone of the throne. He opened his maw and with a deafening roar, unleashed a torrent of fire, white as snow, upon the backrest of the seat. Flames splashed against the stone and spiralled up, climbing higher and higher as it singed dancing patterns into the stone.

All that remained of Mikleo’s flesh was turned. There was not an inch of bare skin left on him. Even the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet were scaled. Not even his cock had survived the transformation. When slowly the arousal faded, his cock retreated into an internal sheath.

What had he just done? Had he, in a moment of weakness, thrown away their only hope? Mikleo couldn’t bear the thought. His mind reeled as he remembered the sheer amount of Malevolence that had seeped into him from the act of their lovemaking. That he was not a dragon yet was an astonishing miracle.

Mikleo called forth water, surprised that the Seraphic Artes still came easily to him despite the fundamental changes he felt inside. He gathered the water into a circular sheet, slowly freezing it so that it would do for a makeshift mirror. The face that stared back at him was not his. Its elongated snout, reptilian eyes, scales the colour of crystalline ice, and the majestic frosted horns that adorned his head made his blood run cold.

Mikleo punched the mirror, shattering it into sparkling dust. “Don’t look at me!” he cried out. “I’m hideous!”

“Hideous?” said Sorey. Gently, Sorey pulled out of him. Mikleo lay there limply, unwilling to move. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Sorey flipped him over, but he refused to look Sorey in the eye. He couldn’t.

“Mikleo,” said Sorey, his voice surprisingly tender. Mikleo felt lips, gentle, searching, and earnest, against his scaled cheek.

“You idiot! You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Chapter two! :3.
> 
> Thank you so much for the awesome response so far. <3\. I hope you enjoyed the deeper dive into the changes happening to Mikleo and the way that his relationship with Sorey is evolving under these circumstances. And I mean, of course, I hope you enjoyed the smut, even if it was just secondary and served more to drive the conflict forward. :3.
> 
> Leave a kudos if you liked the story so far and please, leave a comment if you'd like me to continue! It helps to know that there's an audience out there for this since I have a lot of writerly projects to dedicate portions of my time to. If I know there are people out there who would want to read more of this story, I would gladly apportion more of my time to this.
> 
> But yeah, I hope you enjoyed! :D.


	3. Control

It was difficult, suffice to say, to pinpoint exactly how long Sorey and Mikleo had been laying cradled in each other’s arms atop the stone throne. This far into the darkness—so deep into the Malevolence that surrounded Maotelus like a stifling woolen blanket—time seemed to be a concept both fluid and nebulous.

Not that it mattered in the least, Sorey thought to himself. He buried his nose in the crook of Mikleo’s neck and drank in the sharp, clean, icy scent. Nothing really mattered much so long as they were together. He nuzzled Mikleo’s snout and pressed a tender kiss to the scales that were shimmering softly in the dim light that suffused the air about them.

The scales rippled as Sorey’s warm breath ghosted over them. They were smooth to the touch, surprisingly soft, and, rather predictably, quite cool against his skin. There was something to be said about the simple elegance of each small shield-shaped piece of keratin and the way that they accentuated the ripples of Mikleo’s newfound musculature whenever the two of them shifted in their positions atop the throne.

“Hey, Mikleo,” said Sorey, surprised to find that his throat was rather dry. How long had they been there, just enjoying the other’s company? Mikleo had been crying—he remembered as much. Although he couldn’t really say how long ago it was that Mikleo stopped.

Sorey was glad that Mikleo wasn’t sniffling anymore, but he was still concerned. He cupped Mikleo’s chin and tilted Mikleo’s snout upward. Even in this form, as far as Sorey was concerned, Mikleo was still handsome. The way that the diffused glow of the Malevolence danced across the scales of Mikleo’s new form, making them look like freshly fallen snow, was enchanting. The gentle glimmer and the soft angles of Mikleo’s draconic face imparted a strange unearthly beauty to him. “Are you feeling better now?” Sorey asked.

A single reptilian eye cracked open to fix Sorey with a flat glare. In the dim light, the lavender of Mikleo’s eyes seemed to glow with a soft radiance. Not that Sorey got to appreciate them for very long. Soon enough, a translucent membrane slid shut over Mikleo’s eye, mere moments before scaly eyelids closed over it.

Sorey bit his cheek. He supposed it only made sense, but hadn’t  _ exactly _ thought about the possibility. He bit the inside of his lip, eager to ask a question but understanding that it was probably going to be in poor taste given the circumstances. Despite his restraint, though, it seemed that Mikleo, as always, knew exactly what he wanted.

Sorey felt a puff of hot air against his face. “I know what you’re going to ask,” Mikleo drawled. His voice was low, gravelly, rumbling, and threaded with an undercurrent of Malevolence, as well as a sort-of exasperated amusement. It was a far cry from the gentler tone of voice that Mikleo had always had, but it was still musical to Sorey’s ears. “And because I know you’re not going to calm down until you find out, they feel weird.”

“Nuh-uh” said Sorey, sheepishly. “I wasn’t going to ask about your nictitating membranes.” He couldn’t help but blush—and try to hide said blush. Even though both of them had been touched by the Malevolence and even though they had both been irrevocably changed by its taint, some things remained the same. They still knew each other as intimately as they once had. Nothing—not the darkest shadow, nor the brightest light could change that.

“Right,” Mikleo huffed.

Sorey placed his hands on Mikleo’s shoulders and pushed until his torso was about an arm’s length from Mikleo’s. He watched the flaring of Mikleo’s nostrils as he breathed, the gentle rippling of the scales on his snout. A devious thought crossed Sorey’s mind, a sort of retribution for the embarrassment of being caught in his inappropriate curiosity. He wondered if in this form, Mikleo could still blush.

“Yeah…” said Sorey, his voice dropping an octave in register. He slowly pulled Mikleo closer. “I was actually going to ask… if you were feeling as sexy as you look now.”

Much to Sorey’s satisfaction, the scales on Mikleo’s snout turned a faint shade of pink. He smirked and leaned forward when they were half an arm’s length apart. He traced his index finger down Mikleo’s sternum. “S-shut up,” Mikleo complained, half-heartedly slapping at Sorey’s fingers as they dipped lower, past the ridge of Mikleo’s abdominals and over and around Mikleo’s navel.

“S-stop!” Mikleo moaned as Sorey’s fingers expertly teased his pubic mound. Another soft moan, though this one interrupted by a growl, followed as Sorey’s exploration slowly drifted from teasing to insistent and sensual. “I-if you keep doing that…” Mikleo groaned as Sorey’s fingers slipped even further.

Sorey playfully flicked the tip of Mikleo’s cock, which was peeking out from its internal sheath, eliciting a whimper from Mikleo. He nipped at Mikleo’s jaw, well aware that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t hope to harm Mikleo in such a fashion. He rubbed the area around Mikleo’s sheath, trying to lure the draconic manhood out of its hiding place. Now that he had started, Sorey had no intentions, nor inclination, to stop.

Sorey tugged at Mikleo’s turgid member as it slid out. He pressed a kiss to Mikleo’s cheek, but not before savouring the whimpers and the way that Mikleo squirmed under his touch. “Admit it, Mikleo,” he drawled, as his fingers played delicately with the tapered head of Mikleo’s cock. The slit leaked a droplet of pre-come onto the tips of Sorey’s fingers.

“You feel powerful,” Sorey breathed, more than said. He delighted at the barely-perceptible shiver that spread through Mikleo as his hot breath ghosted over the icy scales of the Seraph’s bared neck. “You feel  _ sexy _ ,” he whispered, before looking up into Mikleo’s wide eyes with the most ‘come-hither’ gaze that he could manage. Why had he never tried to seduce Mikleo before? It was so much fun. The fact that he would have never deigned to do it untouched by Malevolence aside, he was regretting some of his earlier restraint.

“O—oh!” Mikleo gasped, sharp claws raking against the stone of the throne. Sorey’s fingers probed with tender curiosity at the “lips” of Mikleo’s genital slit, despite the other’s protestations. “S-stop that!” Mikleo protested, weakly batting his clawed fingers at Sorey’s hands. If he hadn’t been so enamoured by this strange new feature of Mikleo’s changed anatomy, he would have noticed that the half-hearted scolding he received from Mikleo was little more than a vague attempt at maintaining some sort of civility.

As he played with Mikleo’s sheath, he couldn’t help but idly wonder if this was what female private parts would feel like to the touch. Not that he was particularly keen or willing to find a woman to compare. Nevertheless, it was so fascinating that something so tough and protective on the outside, covered with hard scales and all, could be so tender and sensitive on the inside.

Engrossed as he was, Sorey barely noticed Mikleo’s growing distress until he felt jagged draconic teeth digging into the flesh of his shoulder after a particularly vigorous poke at the inner lining of Mikleo’s sheath. He supposed he had underestimated the sensitivity of the area and, for a moment, he feared that he had hurt Mikleo.

When Sorey noticed, however, that Mikleo’s heavy breathing was more out of arousal than anything else, he couldn’t help but smirk in satisfaction. As he felt his own warm blood trickling down his side, he felt a jolt of unexpected pleasure surge through his spine and up the length of his cock.

Sorey took a moment to look at what he had wrought. There was a bead of white clinging to the tapered tip of Mikleo’s cock, and the scales at the end of Mikleo’s snout were flushed the same faintly red colour as the scales further up toward Mikleo’s cheeks.

Gently, Sorey moved his fingers from Mikleo’s groin up to the jaws clamped around his shoulder. He gingerly pried the teeth from his flesh and before he even had a chance to enjoy the throbbing pain that he felt—the almost sensuous way that his blood dripped down his side, he felt Mikleo’s Seraphic Artes washing over him. The wound sealed shut and a fine webbing of frost appeared over the area as the magic passed.

“I-I’m sorry,” Mikleo stammered. Sorey could hear that Mikleo was genuinely shocked at the way that the feral instincts overcame him. Truth be told, Sorey found it somewhat hot, and he couldn’t help but giggle as Mikleo’s serpentine tongue snaked its way up the side of his body. Whether Mikleo was licking him clean or lapping up the blood, he didn’t know. Not that he cared. It was such an intimate gesture that he felt his chest warm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I just… you just…”

Sorey shook his head and placed the palm of his hand on Mikleo’s snout, effectively shutting him up. “That tickled, you know,” Sorey muttered as he rubbed his nose against the flushed scales of Mikleo’s snout. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said, “just do it again if you really want to make it up to me.” A moment passed in what Sorey assumed was stunned silence, then he giggled again as he felt Mikleo’s rough tongue swipe across the skin of his side.

As good as it was, it wasn’t what Sorey wanted. “ _ No _ ,” he said. His voice reverberated throughout the chamber. He didn’t know what brought on the sudden anger—or the hunger that accompanied it—but he was fairly certain he didn’t mean to get mad.

Sorey blinked and shook the odd desire to dominate from his mind. “I mean…” he said, in as contrite a tone as he could manage, “I mean… Fuck. Okay. I’ll just say it. I want you to  _ bite _ me again.”

Mikleo’s eyes shot open, glimmering ever so slightly in the dim light. For a moment, Sorey couldn’t imagine why Mikleo had reacted in such a way—then it occurred to him that he was essentially asking Mikleo to hurt him. He wanted to be gentle, really, but there was a hunger within him that demanded action. “ _ Now _ ,” Sorey growled.

There was a huff of resignation that hung in the air for a heartbeat before Sorey felt the serrated dragon teeth bury into the flesh of his shoulder. The pain was exquisite. It coursed through his veins and thrummed through his body. He drank it in, reveling in the way that it throbbed through his being, the titillating sensation of blood trickling down his side.

Sorey looked at Mikleo and watched as Mikleo’s eyes glazed over with what he could only imagine was a similar rapture. He could feel the teeth working deeper into him, the serpentine forked tongue slithering back and forth over the bleeding wounds to lap at the lifeblood flowing from them.

Sorey gently placed his hands on Mikleo’s shoulders and without second thought, the drake pulled away. This time, a handful of jagged teeth in Mikleo’s maw came away, strands of saliva mingled with blood clinging to them. Sorey thought he saw a few chunks of meat, too, but he wasn’t as disgusted as he thought he should be.

“Thank you, Mikleo,” said Sorey, almost purring with delight. He brought one hand up to his shoulder, pressing at the stinging wounds. There had been a momentary look of concern and fear in Mikleo’s eyes when Sorey touched the wound, but that expression quickly turned to one of pride, almost as though Sorey’s words had changed the situation entirely.

Sorey found himself wishing, somewhat, that Mikleo wasn’t so protective as the pain he’d been enjoying slowly ebbed as the Seraphic Artes washed over him.

Now that he’d felt the bite twice, Sorey found that he  _ loved _ it. The experience had sparked a desire within him that he was more than willing to indulge now that they had all the time in the world together. There had been something about the sharp pain, that savage moment of intimacy, that had made him feel  _ alive _ .

As much as Sorey wanted to satisfy his desire, he felt that it was his turn to reciprocate the pleasure. “You never did admit that you feel powerful and sexy in this body…” said Sorey, as he traced the curve of Mikleo’s scaled side.

A chill surged up Sorey’s spine as the thick heady scent of draconic arousal in the air was slowly replaced by something icier—something sadder. Silence fell around the two of them like a stifling blanket and the only sound that broke the quiet was the soft rasp of Mikleo’s scales on stone as he breathed. A moment passed, and then another. Sorey waited, only flinching slightly when he felt Mikleo’s cheek rub against his. “Honestly, that’s because I don’t…”

“But…” Sorey started, only to find a single sharp talon pressed flush against his lips—effectively silencing him.

“I know  _ you _ think that I  _ am _ ,” said Mikleo, cracking a single eye open, “but I don’t. I really don’t. It’s weird. It’s not… I don’t… I don’t feel like it’s right.”

Sorey’s face fell. He should have known better. He should have been aware that even if  _ he _ appreciated Mikleo’s form, Mikleo might not. He wanted nothing more than to make Mikleo see that there was nothing to be afraid of, but he didn’t know how. For a moment, he felt entirely lost. Despair welled within him. A pulse of Malevolence throbbed through his body, only to be expelled as black mist into the air about them.

“It… It’s going to take some time to get used to what I am now,” said Mikleo.

Sorey sighed and rubbed his nose against the tip of Mikleo’s mouth. Although the fear had been overwhelming for a moment, he’d managed to grasp  _ some _ clarity. “No,” he said, gently, as he pressed his lips to the space between Mikleo’s nostrils, “What you are—what  _ we _ are—that hasn’t changed. We might not look the same, but we  _ are _ the same.”

The moments of silence that followed blurred together into some indiscernible length of time. Sorey was more than happy to contentedly lay beside Mikleo, the Malevolence around them notwithstanding. They stared at each other, entwined in a wordless conversation as their breaths intermingled in the darkness of the Throne of Artorius. Those things that they could not express in words were shared between them until finally, Mikleo cracked a smile, lips pulling back to reveal rows of jagged draconic teeth. “Thank you, Sorey,” said Mikleo, the words simple but laden with meaning.

Sorey closed his eyes, the corners of his lips curling upward in a small smile as he felt Mikleo trace the side of his face. He had never once doubted that Mikleo would accept their new situation—he knew that no matter what would happen, Mikleo would be by his side. They had promised, after all. “I have to confess, though,” drawled Mikleo, distracting Sorey from his thoughts, “I do feel sexy and powerful  _ sometimes _ . When  _ you _ make  _ me _ feel sexy and powerful.”

The smile that split Sorey’s face was at first innocent, then it turned into something more devious. Clearly Mikleo was trying to fluster him, or at least that was how it felt to him. He needed to best Mikleo, of course. “Oh?” he said, his voice low and teasing. He could feel a shiver course through Mikleo just from his tone. He traced his fingers down the ridge of Mikleo’s abdominals and growled “Does  _ my _ Mikleo feel sexy and powerful right now, then?” He punctuated his words by suddenly seizing and squeezing Mikleo’s throbbing cock.

Rivulets of pre-come soaked Sorey’s fingers within moments. “F-fuck,” Mikleo panted, red returning to the scales that adorned his face. “Y-yes. Actually…” Sorey squeezed again, eliciting a strangled gasp from the drake. “M-m-ma-Aah! Maybe not so much  _ powerful _ since you’re  _ so _ in control, but definitely sexy…”

Mikleo’s eyes glazed over yet again, shining dully in the dim light of the Throne of Artorius. “Definitely sexy…” he mumbled, as Sorey’s slick fingers began to slide up and down the length of his member. Though he couldn’t quite see from out the corner of his eye, Sorey could hear the sound of Mikleo clawing at the stone of the throne from the pleasure.

“Believe me,” said Sorey, as he lazily tugged on Mikleo’s cock, enjoying the desperate sounds that he tore from Mikleo’s throat, “when we get out of here and start fighting the Hellions again, you’ll feel  _ powerful _ then, too.”

“Haven’t you felt it inside of you yet, Mikleo?” said Sorey, swirling the pad of his thumb in slow circles around the tapered head of Mikleo’s cock, smearing pre-come on the sensitive skin there. “Haven’t you noticed how much easier the Seraphic Artes are coming to you? You healed my wounds without even pausing to think about it…”

Sorey lunged forward and sank his teeth into the tough scales of Mikleo’s shoulder. He had no hope of breaking through the armor, not when he was but a human, but it was more about the significance of the gesture than anything. Whatever words Sorey had left to say were forgotten as he sped up his stroking of Mikleo’s cock. He was more than happy to oblige the tiny, involuntary thrusts of Mikleo’s hips, and as he did, he felt a hunger—familiar yet different—begin to grow within him.

Heat blossomed from Sorey’s navel, but instead of spreading upward and outward, the tingling sensation flitted sideways and down the small of his back. He groaned as a red-hot fire of  _ need _ sprang up  _ within _ him, and reaching back to breach himself with his fingers was all he could do to maintain some semblance of control.

Fingers sliding in and out of his own entrance with lewd and wet sounds, Sorey pushed Mikleo over onto his back. He looked into the drake’s eyes, which were lidded with lust much like his own. “I need you inside me,” he growled, arching his back and thrusting back onto his fingers.

They weren’t enough. Not anymore. Sorey clambered onto the throne, grinning darkly. With a sucking sound, he pulled his fingers from his hole and placed both his hands on Mikleo’s shoulders. Without further warning, he plunged himself down onto Mikleo’s cock, impaling himself down to the hilt.

The sensation of fullness that Mikleo’s manhood gave Sorey was rapturous. No cogent thought could form in his mind, carried away and dashed against desire by the raging torrent of lust that consumed him.

The very Malevolence that hung about the air around the two of them took on a reddish tinge, seemingly pulsing to the rhythm with which Sorey raised and lowered himself onto Mikleo’s cock. Breaths, heartbeats, moans, thrusts, and kisses all blurred into one another until Sorey wasn’t quite sure anymore where  _ he _ ended and where Mikleo began.

Lost to the all-consuming want, neither of the two could grasp the passage of time until Mikleo finally, with a keening cry, spilled his seed into Sorey with such force and volume that it gushed  _ out _ of Sorey, drenching the seat and the steps leading up to the throne. They collapsed into a panting, moaning heap atop the stonework, all too glad to be together even in the dark.

\----------

“What…” Mikleo’s voice was soft as it filtered through the blanket of silence that had descended around the two of them. “What do you mean  _ when _ we fight Hellions again?”

Sorey’s eyes fluttered open. He looked down and saw slitted lavender eyes looking up at him, confusion writ into their very depths. “Why?” Mikleo said, almost sleepily. “Aren’t you tired of all of this shit?” Whatever lust had overtaken the both of them earlier had clearly dispersed by now. Instead of a haze of desire, all that was in Mikleo’s eyes was the very lucid intelligence that had always dwelt behind them.

“And let’s forget about tired… Aren’t you the new Lord of Calamity?” asked Mikleo, the title rolling off of his tongue with none of the apprehension that they had always regarded it with long ago. Sorey felt scaled fingers cup his chin. Mikleo’s tongue slipped in and out of his mouth, furtively tasting the air, as he examined Sorey’s face. “Don’t you want to spread misery to the people?” said Mikleo, almost demanding an answer. “Don’t you want to unleash Hellions on the ‘pathetic’ humans to wipe them off the face of the earth?”

For a moment, Sorey was offended that Mikleo would think such bad things of him, though after giving some thought to the matter, he realized that it only made sense that he, as a Fallen Shepherd, would be the next Lord of Calamity. Not that he would know, exactly, if he was. He wasn’t even sure if  _ being _ a Lord of Calamity felt any different.

“I don’t  _ feel _ like a Lord of Calamity, to be honest,” said Sorey, sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to feel like!”

“And no, I don’t want to wipe humans off the face of the earth.” Mikleo raised an eyebrow at Sorey, a strange sort of morbid mirth turning the corners of his mouth up. “Okay,” Sorey begrudgingly admitted, as the Malevolence thickened around the two of them, “Maybe some small part of me wants to do something naughty.”

The throne groaned under the weight of the two of them as Sorey’s eyes darkened and Malevolence began to swirl around them. “Maybe some small part of me wants to unleash a tide of darkness on them…” The stone of the throne cracked and heaved under Sorey’s fingers as he battled to keep his anger in check. “Maybe I want to drown each and every single one of them in blood for what they did to you…”

The Malevolence whipped about them like a tempest of shadow, Sorey’s eyes were wild and his body thrummed with a black power that he could only  _ just _ contain. “Maybe I want them to  _ pay _ for everything they’ve done, for what they’ve made  _ us _ lose.”

The gathering storm slowed then dissipated in the space of a heartbeat, revealing a single hand, covered in glittering scales that looked like sheets of ice, pressed against Sorey’s cheek. A single rivulet of clear water streamed down the side of Sorey’s face, clung to the curve of Mikleo’s talon, and sparkled as it flowed down to Mikleo’s wrist before dripping onto the stonework.

“Maybe I want to hurt them like they hurt you,” whispered Sorey, “but I lost you once already. I don’t want to lose you again by losing control of myself.”

Sorey gripped the hand that was pressed against his cheek, his body shaking as the tears fell.

Slowly, the light of intellect returned to Mikleo’s dulled eyes. The thick corded muscles that had begun to form under his skin faded away. The thickened neck, the elongated snout, the draconic instincts that had surged as the Malevolence enveloped them, were pushed away by the sheer force of Sorey’s will.

That had been too close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story just gets darker and darker. I mean, I'm really flexing my angst muscles here. Laying the groundwork for potential tragedy. Mm...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter. :3. It was a blast to write. I'll definitely be continuing this story in the future, but for now, this is all I have. We'll see more of the others moving forward, but probably not until the boys leave the Throne of Artorius.
> 
> In any case, if you like the story so far, please, do leave a kudos, and if you want to, leave me a comment! Comments keep me going, and they really help my motivation, so I would love to read what you guys have to say about Starfall. :3.


	4. Medraut

The passage of time was a difficult concept to grasp in the heart of the darkness. Although Sorey didn’t know when it had happened, it had. It had overcome him like a raging desert storm, intense, merciless, and without warning. Still he shook from its effects—still he suffered under its vicelike grip.

Sorey knelt upon the stone at the base of the throne. Around him, the masonry was cracked, buckled upward to form a shallow crater underneath him. Malevolence rushed out of him as a surging river, crashing against the architecture of the place with such force that the tenuous walls disintegrated into pieces of rock that drifted away into the eternal void.

The Fallen Shepherd screamed as the vicious torrent of fear and uncertainty tore through him. It had been building for a while now, but only in the recent past had it reached a breaking point. Sorey held his hands to his face as black droplets rolled from his darkened eyes, the inky liquid rolling down the backs of his hands through the gaps between his fingers.

Ever since he’d embraced the darkness, Sorey had been able to hold the voices back. Those whispering, maddening voices that dwelt in the back of his mind. It had been a matter of life and death that he not give in to them. Well, at least a matter of life and death for _him._ He had known since he awoke that it was only the sheer force of his will, unbowed, unbent, unbroken, that kept Mikleo from succumbing to the Malevolence.

From his first taste of the intoxicating allure of the Malevolence, Sorey had known that if he lost control, he would lose Mikleo, and that was as good as _death_ for him.

Yet like an insidious fungus, tendrils of self-doubt and worry wormed their way through the cracks in Sorey’s mental defenses. They wore him down gradually until the possibility that he would break became an inevitability. It had been a burden too difficult to bear alone, and at some time in the eternity of darkness he’d so willingly given himself to, in order to save Mikleo’s soul, he broke.

The pieces of all that he had once been lay all around Sorey. Glittering shield-shaped scales adorned the ground about him, some freshly fallen like snow on the cracked stonework, others wedged into the growing, groaning rifts in the rock.

Behind him, Sorey could hear the cracking sounds of reshaping bone, and the anguished cries of the boy whom he’d promised eternity to. He wailed again in despair, struggling to regain control but failing miserably. The voices redoubled their efforts to wipe him—and the tattered remains of his nobility—from his mind.

“ _You failed,_ ” the voices taunted, without mercy, using Sorey’s own traitorous mind against him. In front of his mind’s eye loomed an image that he could neither shake nor look away from, no matter how hard he turned his head. It was the tattered, torn-to-shreds glove that had, in a way, set off the entire journey that had led him to where he was today.

Sorey could not look away, and the image of that damnable glove _haunted_ him.

“ _You were supposed to be the Shepherd,_ ” said the voices, vicious and corrosive, “ _You were supposed to save the world. You were supposed to be its light._ ” They were tireless in their constant besieging of whatever remained of Sorey’s dwindling light.

Sorey shook his head, his hands crawling up the sides of his face, his fingers clamping down upon his temples. Liquid Malevolence brimmed from his eyes as the bones of his own back began to break and reform. His spine arched upward, snapped in half, then grew back to force him to hunch over the puddle of black tears that had spilled from his eyes.

“No!” Sorey gasped, blood spilling freely from the corners of his lips as he struggled to speak. He had been biting down on the insides of his cheek, and though his teeth had grown sharper, his flesh had not become tougher to match.

“ _You were supposed to be Lailah’s redemption. The Shepherd who would take her Sacred Flame to bring light to the world, instead of darkness_ ” the voices said, “ _instead you became like the last. You turned the flames’ silver to black and dipped her divine sword in the blood of Lords. You doomed her dream of light to **darkness.**_ ”

“No…” said Sorey, shaking, as the tears that only served as more proof of his corruption streamed down his cheeks. “Get out of my head!” he screamed. The sound was so blood-curdling that it sent shivers down his own spine. “Get out of my head before it’s too late!” he begged.

Behind Sorey, he heard the throne creak and groan and crumble. He heard the tinkle of more scales falling like delicate hail to the floor.

“ _You promised Edna hope,_ ” said the voices, “ _You promised Zaveid absolution._ ” From the darkness of his own mind, Sorey could almost feel twisted and gnarled hands reaching from the recesses of the Malevolence that now dwelt within him.

Wicked talons grabbed at Sorey, digging into his skin, but drawing no blood for it was all in his mind. Instead, these vicious claws bled and tore away the parts of him that the darkness considered weak and exploitable. “ _You promised them you would save Eizen, but instead you **doomed** them like him._ ”

“GET OUT!” Sorey screamed as he forced himself to his feet. Every inch that he rose from the ground was an agonizing struggle against the darkness that wanted to make him kneel. It was as though the burden of the world rested upon his shoulders—even more so now than it ever had before his fall.

Halfway up, Sorey stopped. His broken and remade spine was in his way. He was hunched over, but he would not tolerate it. _He_ wasn’t going to be broken. Not like this. Not when so much hung in the balance.

The voices laughed at Sorey’s futile efforts. “ _And what of Rose?_ ” they said, almost sweetly. “ _She looked up to you. She admired you. She even went so far as to kill for you so you wouldn’t have to._ ” The voices cackled as Sorey felt another crushing wave of hopelessness and despair slam against him.

Sorey’s knees buckled, and he nearly fell, but he stood his ground. “ _You killed her,_ ” sang the voices in as cruel a tone as they could. “ _You killed her,_ ” they said, their echoing laughter filled with sinister notes. “ _You killed them **all.**_ ”

Sorey closed his eyes and forced himself to stand straighter. He grunted in pain as he used all his strength to break his own spine. It gave him a moment to straighten, but the bone regrew so quickly it forced him to stop again.

Time and again, Sorey broke his back and straightened until he stood as tall as he could. As fury built within him, the hands he’d held up to his temples fell to either side of him. The fingers grew long and lean and wicked, scales sprouting to cover his skin. His legs took on the shape of a dragon’s, ink black scales bursting through skin where the transformation took him.

Sorey’s new clawed toes dug into the loose rubble that remained in the bowl of broken debris he’d been kneeling in later. He shook his head and blinked his eyes as he noticed clumps of his own hair falling in front of his eyes and felt them, feather-light, across his back.

Sorey opened his mouth and howled, knowing that it was much too late. His maw opened far wider than he had ever felt it go before. The sound that left him was unlike any he’d ever heard before. It was like his roar forced together the choir of the eternally damned and the sonorous dragonsong of all that had been turned before him.

“ _Worst of all, you failed **him,**_ ” said the voices, though they were no longer much more than whispers in the back of his head. “ _You were supposed to be his eternity, his other half!_ ”

Sorey groaned as he heard what sounded like the voice of Zenrus. “ _You took his innocence. You defiled his beauty. You corrupted him. And now, you’ve given him to the darkness. What a sorry excuse for a friend you are._ ”

“No,” Sorey whispered, sinking to his knees as he felt a tail work its way out of the base of his spine. “No,” he mumbled, shaking his head from side to side as he braced himself against the floor with his thickening arms. “NO!” he screamed, his voice in unity with the roar of the newborn dragon behind him.

Sorey felt a new power course through his veins. It was bright and sickeningly so. It seared him when he approached it, and burned through him when he touched it. It was alluring and addictive. He grasped on to it, willing to do anything, _everything_ to save Mikleo.

The Artes that he had never been able to use before came to Sorey in their most vicious and destructive form. He unleashed hell upon the heart of darkness. Flame fell from the heavens and turned to ash anything that it could. Stone rumbled and shook beneath him as the platform began to disintegrate. Spiraling frost covered the stone, climbing without care nor remorse anything that it came into contact with. The very air turned heavy, then stagnant, and then noxious.

Sorey gasped, eyes fluttering open, as the concentric circles of light that had formed around him guttered and died, winking out of existence like snuffed out candle flames. With staggering steps, Sorey lumbered toward the throne, where Symonne’s corpse still lay.

“I should kill you again for this,” Sorey growled, his voice again sounding like the souls of the damned joined by the dragons in ghastly song. He curled his fingers around an imaginary hilt, talons digging into the pad of his thumb, drawing ink-black blood from the wound.

“I _will_ kill you again for this,” Sorey snarled, the voices in his head speaking in unison with him for once.

Sorey swung his arms over his head, and where there had once only been poisonous air now gleamed a blade of what seemed to be black steel. It trailed curling strands of Malevolent mist behind it in an arc. Yet, even so, cruel fate denied Sorey the chance to cleave Symonne in half. Just as the blade was about to strike, the platform crumbled underneath her and sent her tumbling into the eternal abyss.

Sorey took careful steps away from the crumbling edge of the platform, watching helplessly as Artorius’ throne succumbed to the darkness, too. He fell onto his ass as wind thick with poison buffeted him. Mighty wingbeats of the newborn dragon propelled it high into the air like a glimmering comet.

Where Mikleo’s scales had been pretty and looked like ice earlier, the dragon’s scales looked like polished diamond. Its scales gathered the dim light of the chamber, and where the beast hovered, it shone like a crystalline chandelier. Sorey could hardly muster the will to tear his eyes away. The sheer beauty was all that remained of Mikleo.

Sorey blinked away the tears and leaned his weight upon the black blade he held in his hands. He pushed himself to his feet, resisting the urge to walk on four legs as the scales grew rampant over his lower half. He struggled, fighting the desire to surrender, to _join_ Mikleo as a dragon. He didn’t want that, not when he would become a mindless beast unable to enjoy the company of the one person that still mattered to him.

Sorey hobbled along, using the sword as a walking stick, until he reached the place where Heldalf had fallen after having his heart ripped out and crushed by Mikleo. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Heldalf’s neck, feeling the faint pulse of lifeblood underneath his touch, digging his claws into the pallid flesh.

With bottomless contempt, Sorey looked at Heldalf. He saw a reflection of himself in the Lord of Calamity’s eyes. Where Heldalf’s were gold, Sorey could see that his were pitch black, save for a singular ember, a point of infinitely dense hatred that lay at the centre, tracking every weak twitch of Heldalf’s body.

Heldalf laughed weakly, the sound hacking and unpleasant to the ear. “ _It is a pleasure to see you fall,_ ” managed the Lord of Calamity with a hoarse, raspy breath. “ _Now do what you desire. Kill me and take my power for your own!_ ”

Heldalf threw his head back and unleashed a bout of deranged laughter that rattled through his weakened body.

“I don’t care about your power, Heldalf,” said Sorey, taking a step forward as Mikleo landed behind him with a dull boom and a rush of wintry air. The platform shook, but Sorey did not seem fazed in the least. He tossed Heldalf across the platform as though the other was but a ragdoll. He stopped Heldalf with a gust of wind just before the Lord of Calamity tipped over the edge. “I want you to _suffer._ ”

A faint gasp escaped Heldalf’s lips as a spire of stone, as wicked sharp as the talons that now adorned Sorey’s fingers, erupted from the platform to pierce him through the hole in his chest. Another pierced Heldalf’s abdomen. Still, Heldalf laughed. “ _I know you want it, Fallen Shepherd… So come on. you can **have it all** and rule the world!_ ”

“The world can fuck itself,” said Sorey. “I want you to suffer!” he screamed, freezing all the blood that remained in Heldalf’s veins in the same instant. Shards of purplish ichor erupted through muscle and skin like vicious thorns growing from a twisted Heldalf-shaped plant. “For everything you’ve done to me. For everything you’ve _taken_ from me!”

Light blazed to life around Sorey as another Seraphic Arte manifested itself within him. He drew all the air from Heldalf’s lungs and with a flick of his wrist ensured that Heldalf could not breathe. “For what you’ve done to _him!_ ”

A second circle of life erupted around Sorey, this one tinged slightly red. A crimson pearl appeared on the surface of Heldalf’s skin, followed by a piercing whistle, and then a spherical conflagration that consumed the Lord of Calamity.

“ _Please, Shepherd_ ” Sorey heard, in the back of his mind, as Heldalf’s mouth stretched impossibly wide in a soundless scream. “ _Give me my end…_ ” Heldalf begged.

The single point of vengeant fire in Sorey’s eyes glinted cruelly as he laughed. The sound was broken and bitter. “ _Never,_ ” he hissed, barely recognizing that his voice had become just another of the countless others in his head.

The whole world _throbbed._ It was thunderous yet silent at the same time. Sorey staggered forward from the force of the ripple. Whatever it was, he couldn’t comprehend it.

The world throbbed again. And then again.

Time seemed to slow as Sorey fell to his knees. As he did, he glimpsed behind him blue-white fire stoked in Mikleo’s belly, glowing in veins of white light underneath the translucent scales. Before he hit the floor, he saw a pennant of ice-cold dragonfire leap from Mikleo’s maw.

And yet, even as Sorey watched, the flames slowed in their movement, then stopped entirely.

The world throbbed again. And again. And again.

Sorey felt something change in the power that coursed through him. The intoxicating heat of the Seraphic Artes was replaced by something else, something cold and cloying, yet at the same time, sickly-sweet and addictive.

The circles of light that the Seraphic Artes had created around Sorey began to dim. Where light had once governed, darkness took over. The walls of radiant energy that had streamed up from the circles at first took on a purplish shade, then disappeared, replaced by loops and strands of darkness that rose upward from the circles like dripping honey.

Unlike the Seraphic Artes, which had been a joy to hold in his grasp, these new Artes instilled in Sorey a burning _need_ to grasp them. He couldn’t let go—nor would he have if he could.

Sorey breathed and drew deeply upon this new power. The circles around his feet darkened even further, and a wind thick with Malevolence began to blow from underneath him. Corruption seeped from his feet outward into the platform. Sorey felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a force fed by his despair, his sorrow, his grief, his vengeance, and his fury.

With little else to act upon than his instincts, with everything he held dear hinging on a miracle, Sorey unleashed his newfound strength and a torrent of darkness swallowed the Throne of Artorius whole.

The world shrieked once as though stabbed through the heart, and then Sorey gave himself unto oblivion.

 

———-

 

When Sorey came to, he was human again. He was naked. He was kneeling in the centre of a chamber that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

Underneath Sorey was a large circular platform that dropped sharply into darkness at the edges. From four corners, forming a large ‘X’ with the circle at the centre were four projections from the platform. Each had a monolithic slab of black stone at its tip.

Familiar and unfamiliar. Sorey knew why the place was familiar. Igraine, Shrine to the Fire Trial. No matter how he thought about it, he could not fathom why he was there.

Sorey knew it would be fruitless to attempt to understand his situation, so instead he turned his thoughts to Mikleo. He sniffed the air, bent on finding that scent that had become so familiar. Despite the weight of Malevolence that pressed against every inch of his being, he could make out the faint scent of ice in the air.

“Now, now,” said a deep rumbling voice that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. It was so loud that it shook the very stone that Sorey knelt upon. “Did you have to be so cruel?” said the voice, seemingly bemused. A soft chuckle nearly knocked Sorey on his side.

“Where’s Mikleo?” Sorey mumbled, more concerned with the Seraph’s whereabouts than his own, or the identity of the speaker. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize me, old friend?” said the voice. “Once, in a dream long ago, you and I slept together for  _centuries._ ”

The darkness in front of Sorey, which he had assumed to be sheer emptiness, _shifted._ A diagonal, glowing purple slit appeared in the air and then widened to reveal a truly enormous reptilian eye.

The darkness all around Sorey rippled and moved, revealing a dragon so titanic in size that it was near-incomprehensible. He squinted up at the pair of glowing purple eyes now so far in the distance they almost looked normal-sized.

“Maotelus,” Sorey whispered.

“Well met, Fallen Shepherd,” said the Lord with a smile, baring gleaming white teeth. “And it is my deepest honour to welcome you to Medraut, Shrine to the Black Trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. :3. Getting deeper into what I have planned for this series. :3.
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! Please! Leave kudos if you like the story so far, and leave a comment if you want to make my day just a little bit brighter. <3\. It would be much appreciated.


	5. Cold Blood

Sorey sat cross-legged on Maotelus’ shoulder. The hard edges of the scales under his ass were somewhat uncomfortable to sit on, but it was better to do this than to hang off of one of the spikes that jutted out along Maotelus’ spine.

Keeping his calm was Sorey’s primary priority as the great black wyrm languidly climbed the sides of the pit that the Throne of Artorius had fallen into over the long years. Beyond maintaining his serenity, it was somewhat difficult to not get irritated by the sound of grinding and cracking rock as Maotelus’ enormous weight slowly dragged itself out of the hole.

The fact that Maotelus’ preternaturally sharp talons pierced into the stone like a hot knife through butter didn’t help. Every time the wyrm pulled himself higher, the stone screamed from the sheer pressure. Maotelus’ titanic claws left deep gouges in the rock with every motion that he made.

Sorey raised his eyes. Up ahead of them, Mikleo flew. At least, what remained of the seraph. The glittering dragon looped and swooped in the air, paying little attention to the powerful downdrafts that cascaded over the sides of the pit. The fallen seraph occasionally gave a cry of delight that echoed off of the walls of the cavernous holes and sent shivers up the length of Sorey’s spine.

There was so little of the seraph that Sorey had spent the better part of his life trying to protect left in the dragon that he was at his wit’s end. Maotelus had promised him answers and a cure to Mikleo’s condition, but despite the breadth of the new power granted him by the Black Trial of Medraut, he still hadn’t figured out the answer to his problems.

Sorey was on the brink of surrender. He would have taken both his and Mikleo’s lives gladly, if only to spare themselves the prolonged suffering of drifting apart as Mikleo’s mind reverted to something more primal and feral. He would have done so as soon as he left Medraut if not for Maotelus’ reassurances.

At the very least, Sorey thought to himself as he watched Mikleo circle high above them, scales sparkling in the morning light, it looked as though the dragon was enjoying itself.

The scales that Sorey was sitting on shifted for a moment, then vibrated as a low rumbling growl filled the air. The cliff-face shook, echoing the noise. It took a moment to register that the sound was no growl at all, just one of Maotelus’ occasional titanic inhalations.

The gigantic black wyrm continued his slow climb to the rim of the crater. On a whim, Sorey craned his neck and looked down at the floor of the pit below them. Even though the sun shone directly down into the darkness, its depths were hidden by thick roiling clouds of Malevolence.

Sorey would have thought that the Malevolence would follow them, but Maotelus had also pointed out that Medraut and the Throne of Artorius had been inextricably bound. The Malevolence would never leave.

Sorey was distracted from his reverie by the sound of grinding stone and tinkling crystal as Maotelus heaved himself up another few feet. The monstrous bulk of the wyrm took a lot of strength to move against the pull of gravity and the sheer force of the motion was quite apparent when one of the ice crystals that lined the path upward shattered upon contact with Maotelus’ rising arm.

Up ahead, the near-vertical sides of the pit were decorated here and there with glittering columns of ice. They had been put there by Mikleo’s freezing breath, or at least that’s what Sorey assumed. If not for their jagged countenance and the thread of shadow that lurked within each, they would have been truly and breathtakingly beautiful.

Maotelus didn’t seem to appreciate them as much as Sorey did, however, as he simply kept climbing. The feet-thick columns of ice broke against his adamantine scales like delicate glass, barely fazing the wyrm and completely failing at slowing him down. “ _It begins to grow tiresome, this climb,_ ” said Maotelus’ rumbling voice as his wings began to unfold. The motion shook the cliff, knocking loose pebbles and small rocks, which rained down on Sorey.

As Maotelus’ wings unfurled, Sorey watched them. The membrane was translucent, but he had no illusions that it was thin and delicate. From the way that it stretched taut as the bony fingers of the wings, Sorey could tell that he could easily stand on the membrane without fear of falling through.

A single wingbeat from Maotelus’ enormous wings birthed winds strong enough that Sorey had to cling to the scales that were in front of him. Crawling on all fours, he slowly made his way to Maotelus’ back, knowing it was a bad idea to be on the wyrm’s shoulders when he stopped moving vertically.

Sorey settled himself at the joint where Maotelus’ neck met his shoulders. It wasn’t difficult to find a decent perch. The wyrm’s neck was nearly as thick as three tree trunks put side to side.

“ _Lose not your grip, fallen shepherd,_ ” Maotelus rumbled. Sorey could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “ _Your friend is having much enjoyment in flying above us, but allow me to show you and the whelpling what it truly means to fly._ ”

The stone that Maotelus had been clinging on to buckled and cracked as he pushed himself off of the cliff-face. Sorey squeezed his eyes shut, hearing a disgruntled screech from Mikleo high above as he and Maotelus began to plummet to the bottom of the pit. Powerful wingbeats only _just_ managed to stop their descent.

Sorey threw his arms around one of the spines that followed the ridge of Maotelus’ back. He could barely thread his fingers together, but it needed to be done—especially since he was well-aware of what Maotelus wanted to do.

 _Whoosh._ One wingbeat made Sorey’s stomach lurch as Maotelus rose a few feet. Wind from the downdraft being sucked into the pit buffeted him and Maotelus, but at least it did not drive them into the depths. _Whoosh._ A second wingbeat almost made it feel as though his stomach had gone into his groin. _Whoosh._ A third wingbeat propelled Maotelus up into the heavens, the wyrm gently turning as they reached the peak of their ascent a few minutes later.

When Sorey opened his eyes, he looked down and saw the world from an entirely new perspective. He could only _barely_ see Mikleo from so high up. The occasional glint from one of the glass-like scales that decorated the dragon’s body was the only indication that Sorey got about Mikleo’s position.

Underneath him, Sorey could see almost the entire continent. “ _Open your eyes, shepherd. See the state of the lands of my Domain._ ” Sorey nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on the darkness that lay within him like Maotelus had instructed him to.

When Sorey cracked open his eyelids, he saw the continent swathed in a blanket of malevolence that seemed to almost smother it. A bitter battle raged inside of him at that moment. One part of him wanted nothing more than to deepen the Malevolence until it consumed everything, until every creature that dwelt on that accursed continent drowned in darkness and despair.

That part of Sorey was so full of rage, and anger, and sorrow, and despair, and bitterness for everything that the world had taken from him by forcing the destiny of the Shepherd on his shoulders. Another part, still somehow untainted after so long in the shadow, still somehow unchanged by all the pain and loss, wanted to free the land from the sickness that lay over it.

The deep rumbling sound of another of Maotelus’ breaths disturbed Sorey from his thoughts. He looked up and saw the wyrm’s neck craned backward, a single glowing violet eye looking at him. “ _Remember, fallen one,_ ” said Maotelus, “ _it is your duty not to purify the land, but to keep its balance._ ”

==========

_“Okay,” Sorey panted. He was down on one knee, one arm braced against the floor, the other leaning against his sword that he had stabbed into the stone. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, with all the skills that he had learned on his journey to fulfil his destiny as the Shepherd, nor the newfound ability to use the Seraphic artes, he could not pierce Maotelus’ hide. Could not even begin to._

_“Fine,” Sorey hissed. He pulled himself to his feet before wrenching his sword out of the ground. The solidified Malevolence that formed the black blade dissolved, leaving behind just a normal ceremonial sword. “What do I have to do to get back to Mikleo?”_

“Quite simple, really, fallen one,” _said Maotelus, his voice a loud rumble like thunder. The great wyrm shifted along the outer perimeter of the chamber. His scales rasped against one another, sounding like a cacophonous din of full plate armor being dragged against a bed of swords. Maotelus moved so that his enormous eye was aligned with one of the arms of the cross that intersected the central platform. Its dim light illuminated the outline of an obelisk at the end of that arm._ “Complete the black trial.”

_“And what do I need to do that?” Sorey demanded. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. There was a nervous energy inside of him. He couldn’t stand still. His thoughts turned again and again to Mikleo._

“Your goal is quite simple, too,” _Maotelus mused. The enormous violet eye closed and again the sound of shifting scales filled the chamber. Almost imperceptible in the darkness, Sorey could only_ just _make out the outline of Maotelus’ bulk shifting in the shadows. He realized that the wyrm was facing him only when both violet eyes opened, staring down the ridge of an enormous snout, looking right at him._ “You need only unleash the power within.”

_Sorey braced himself as Maotelus’ maw opened. He could see the wicked, jagged teeth that lined the wyrm’s gums. Each one would have easily been as large as he was tall. A dim light, growing steadily in intensity, began to emanate from the depths of Maotelus’ throat. Sorey shielded his eyes as the violet light became almost blinding. He blinked, eyes adjusting, just as Maotelus exhaled a torrent of roiling Malevolence in his direction._

_Sorey stumbled forward into the violent stream of Malevolence. The world seemed to sway around him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought down the nausea and bile that threatened to spill out from between his lips._

_The disorientating sensation eventually vanished. When Sorey cracked his eyes open, he saw that Maotelus was far in the distance, glowing violet eyes watching from far above. Then, from all around Sorey, a building came together from fragments drawn from the void._

_Marble floor tiles rose from the darkness all around Sorey, forming a grid, and then stairs rose up, creating a two-tiered structure toward the back. Parts of a stained glass design drifted through the air past Sorey, coming together to his left as lead seemed to drip from thin air, filling the gaps between them._

_A cold knot formed in the pit of Sorey’s stomach as he realized that the Sanctuary at Ladylake was being built around him. Walls rotated up from the depths of the void and slammed into position. Pillars burst through the tile floor, rotating as they met the ceiling that had descended from the ether. Bolts unfurled and hung themselves from girders in the ceiling. Banners descended from the far wall of the sanctuary as the brazier that stood behind the pedestal that housed Lailah’s sword rose from the floor._

_People began to materialize out of thin air, all of them seemingly unaware of his presence. Sorey was keenly aware that it was all just an illusion, but the sight of Ladylake made him homesick. A bitter nostalgia washed over him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Alisha standing behind the brazier, alive and well._

_Sorey looked at her. She looked at him. She smiled, and then nodded respectfully. Sorey did the same, just as he felt the Shepherd’s mantle dissolve from around his shoulders and manifest around Alisha’s. She bore it with the grace of a ruler and a confidence that Sorey never managed to get until late in his journey._

_Alisha climbed down the stairs, the mantle flapping behind her as she broke into a run. She came up to Sorey and wrapped her arms around him. She was smiling, and tears were in her eyes. “I’m glad you’ve come back to us,” she said. “It’s been so long. The world has changed so much.”_

“I’ve _changed so much,” said Sorey, numbly wrapping his own arms around her. Ever since waking up in the Throne of Artorius, he had pretty much given up on ever seeing some of his friends again. He knew that this was all an illusion, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to not give in to it._

_“I know,” said Alisha. “I’m so sorry… For everything.” She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “It’s been hard, but I’ve managed to keep my people safe. I’ve been following my dreams, like you told me to. I have stayed strong to my principles, like you told me to.” She looked around. “But we’ve all had to make sacrifices to keep Ladylake safe from the darkness.”_

_“I’m proud of you, Alisha,” said Sorey, feeling a swell of emotion in the pit of his stomach._

_“Shepherd,” said one of the nearby guards. Both Alisha and Sorey turned. “Ah. No offense, Shepherd Sorey, but I was talking to the princess,” he said. “What should we do about this one?”_

_From out of the corner of his eye, Sorey saw it first before he heard the clank of chains. Mikleo. Bound and gagged. Bleeding and half-conscious. Shackled and bound at the foot of the pedestal of the sacred blade. “Leave this to me,” Alisha told the guard._

_“Sorey…” said Alisha. “We found him at Glaivend. He was half-mad. He ate one of my men.” Sorey trembled with trepidation. Mikleo was in his half-dragon form. Glittering scales ran up Mikleo’s limbs from clawed hands and feet. His lavender eyes had slit-like draconic pupils, and fangs jutted from his lips._

_One of the nearby guards handed Alisha a lance. Sorey could tell that it was a Divine Artifact. “What are you doing?” Sorey asked, as Alisha assumed the Armatus._

_“Doing you a mercy,” said Alisha. Her gentle tone of voice had taken on a hardened edge. “I’m not strong enough to purify him. The last Shepherd that had that kind of strength was you. It’s better to kill him now than to let him turn into a dragon. You know this is true.”_

_“No,” said Sorey, “You have to let me try.” He didn’t know why he was suddenly so afraid. His heart had dropped into his stomach. He was the new Lord of Calamity. He had more than enough power to stop this if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to have to kill Alisha._

_“How would you do that, Sorey?” Alisha asked. Her voice was soft and low. There was a gentleness there, and a softness, but there was also a sense of urgency. “You have no Prime Lord anymore.”_

_“Please.” Sorey begged._

_“Very well,” said Alisha, “if that is your wish.” She twirled her lance and stabbed the tip into the floor. She leaned against it, watching Sorey closely as he made his way up to Mikleo._

_Sorey shakily drew his ceremonial sword from its sheath. He tried to focus on the purifying energies that had once come so easily to him, but they were nowhere to be found. He called out Lailah’s true name, but to no avail._ That _power had long since deserted him._

_“As I said,” said Alisha, stepping forward and hefting her lance. “Let me do this for you. For my people.”_

_Sorey turned, placing himself squarely between Alisha and Mikleo. “No,” he said, shaking his head from side to side. “I won’t let you kill him.”_

_“You know this is the only way to protect Ladylake!” Alisha snapped. “Where is your sense of sacrifice? We need to save as many people as we can, and if there’s a dragon out there, we won’t be able to do that.”_

_“He’s not a dragon!” Sorey snapped back. He looked over his shoulder at Mikleo’s slumped form. “He’s my friend. He’s_ your _friend. There has to be another way.”_

 _“You know as well as I do that there_ is _no other way,” said Alisha. She took a step forward, pointing the tip of her lance away from Mikleo and toward Sorey instead. “I have to protect my people and if you stand in the way of that, friendship or not, I will do what I must to protect my people.”_

_Sorey took a single step forward, pressing his chest against the tip of Alisha’s lance. The fear that he had felt earlier melted away. The darkness within him flared. He clenched his fists to either side of him as the black-red-and-gold mantle of the fallen shepherd materialized around his shoulders. “I can’t let you do this, Alisha,” he said, eyes burning with black fire._

_Alisha seemed shocked by the transformation of Sorey’s countenance, but she bore down on him, pressing the tip of the lance forward. “I don’t need your permission Sorey,” said Alisha. “Not after you left all of us to deal with the darkness. I’m only doing what I have to do to help my people survive. You taught me to put everyone else ahead of myself.”_

_“You will_ not _lay a hand on him,” said Sorey, trembling with anger. Malevolence seeped from him, dripping from his body like molasses. Where the dark tendrils touched the floor, the tiles seemed to tarnish and age. His darkness fed on the light that surrounded Alisha’s Armatus and ate away at its strength._

_“I will,” said Alisha. She looked at Sorey and shook her head. There was a profound disappointment in her eyes. “I must,” she said, again. She took a step forward and stabbed the lance into Sorey’s chest. The cold steel buried itself in Sorey’s flesh, but he didn’t feel it. His mind was singularly focused on saving Mikleo. “For my people.”_

_Alisha took a single step backward and pulled the lance from Sorey. Its tip was stained with dark blood that dripped like treacle. She made as though to stab Sorey, but at the last moment she whirled around and lunged forward at Mikleo._

_“No!” Sorey screamed. His voice boomed out across the sanctuary. Black flame spilled out across the length of his ceremonial sword, solidifying into a wicked blade with jagged edges. He brought the blade down in an arc, catching Alisha’s lance just as it was about to stab into Mikleo._

_The lance clattered against the steps as Sorey forced it down. Alisha jumped back and pulled the lance with her. She twirled it once around her back before returning to an offensive stance._

_Sorey felt the Malevolence spilling forth from within, changing his body like it had before he had come into Medraut. His feet and hands exploded into claws. Black scales raced up his limbs, much like Mikleo. His eyes took on a draconic glint, and his pupils became slits. “He is mine, and mine alone. You have no right.” he hissed._

_Alisha didn’t grace him with a response. She dashed forward, jabbing her lance toward Sorey. Water streamed from thin air along the trajectory of the attack, solidifying into a large arrowhead-shaped ice structure at the tip of the lance. Sorey nimbly dodged the strike and retaliated, bringing his sword down on the haft of the lance._

_The Divine Artifact shattered on impact. Alisha’s eyes grew wide. She staggered back as Sorey approached her with murderous intent. He felt no guilt. No remorse. No regret. She had threatened the one thing that meant the world to him, and she deserved no quarter._

_Sorey unleashed a flurry of blows, parrying the remains of Alisha’s weapon as she stabbed it at him. Every met strike damaged the weapon further, showering the spectators with splinters of wood. A halo of darkness surrounded Sorey as he pressed his advantage, ignoring the column of water that erupted from around his feet as Alisha disengaged her Armatus and her Prime Lord cast a Seraphic Arte at him._

_It was too late. Much too late. “I would say I’m sorry for this,” Sorey growled, “but I’m not.” He lunged forward and struck his sword through Alisha’s chest. She looked down, eyes wide in shock as the blood began to spill from the jagged wound. She sank to her knees as Sorey pulled back his weapon and struck a fatal blow on her Prime Lord._

_“It’s done,” said Sorey, turning back toward Mikleo. He climbed the steps to the pedestal and broke the chains that bound the seraph. He reached out with a hand, but before Mikleo could take it, the illusion dissolved like ashes in the wind._

“Hmph,” _said Maotelus, shaking the ground with his sigh. The force of wind that it stirred up nearly knocked Sorey off of his feet._ “How disappointing. I expected better. Try again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Hello everyone. Sorry for the super-long delay on this chapter. I got caught up in schoolwork and other personal projects of mine, so I didn't have nearly as much time to devote to this one as I would have liked. :3.
> 
> In any case, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. The Fallen Shepherd has been unleashed upon the world, with Maotelus, no less, and a Mikleo that has fully succumbed to the Malevolence. What did you think of the chapter? Please, leave a comment. The feedback would be very much appreciated.
> 
> If you liked the story so far, leave a kudos, too! I'm hoping I can start updating this frequently again, but I can't yet make any promises other than that I'll keep working on it whenever I have the time. :3.


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